


Farnuri (and Other Tragedies Certainly Not Caused By Lera'Cosa)

by Danowsawa



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Coming of Age, Finding Ones Self, Friendship, Gen, Spacefaring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danowsawa/pseuds/Danowsawa
Summary: Charged with the outlandish destruction of the distant planet of Farnuri, Lera'Cora is recalled by the Migrant Fleet to explain herself adequately, or face banishment from the Flotilla entirely. Recounting the turbulent months of her pilgrimage, however, Lera just might come to understand where she truly belongs within the vastness of the galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

_Lera'Cosa vas Venchin,_

_It has come to our attention that you have been embroiled within the catastrophe upon Farnuri._

_Upon investigation, you have been named as the primary source of the aforementioned disaster,_

_and are hereby ordered to return from your pilgrimage, back to the Flotilla, to plead your case._

_Failure to do so will result in your absolute banishment from the Migrant Fleet._

_Admiralty Board_

* * *

Lera dropped the letter back onto the table before curling up into a ball upon the chair she had sat on. She had been sitting in an interrogation room upon one of the quarian ships, the coldness only making her feel more alien than she already was, despite having grown up amidst these endless walls of metallic facings that now seemed to trap her, confined as she was from any sort of freedom. Even her childhood seemed so foreign to her, just in the months since the beginning of her pilgrimage, considering just how much she had changed.

She dropped her head onto her knees, helplessly awaiting further company. With her mask on, she couldn't even feel her face against her body. It only seemed ironic to her, now. Aboard a ship that she had known forever, and it feeling so foreign, she was now forced to remember just how foreign she was when it came to her own self: to her body, and certainly, to all the changes she had undergone in the last few months.

Farnuri. She remembered it well, but also remembered her role in the so-called "catastrophe". In fact, given her photographic memory, she remembered it _all_. She remembered each planet she had explored on her seven-month-old pilgrimage, and more importantly, the people she had met along the way. Here in this cold room, she wondered just how many would come for her.

She didn't have to wait much longer.

Her head jolted up as the doorway into her containment room churned open, sending exhaust searing through the air while she watched with wide eyes as Porol Tawaji, salarian lawyer "extraordinaire" trudged angrily through the mist that spat from the door's gearshifts, spinning around with a curse as he did so.

"And you'll be sure to see a report from your _superior_ on your desk! I assure you!"

Lera lifted her head and watched as the salarian grumbled to himself before the door closed, shaking his head as he saw her, "My apologies, Lera'Cosa, but with all due respect, your people certainly don't respect _personal_ space."

He annoyingly wiped off his long shirt and made his way to the table, sitting across from his client and laying out a folder upon the iron table, his bedside manner clearly non-existent as he got right to business, not even leaving Lera a moment to speak, "Now, I'm no expert on quarian law, but I gave it a very quick run-through. I am _concerned_ , however, that their evidence does seem, um, rather substantial."

He eyed her, seemingly oblivious to her distant posture, "I mean, you _were_ involved, correct?"

Lera sighed, nodding slowly against her legs, "I mean, inadvertently. I was on my pilgrimage, seeking something worthy of bringing back to my people. I thought Farnuri was…"

Porol sighed, shaking his head, dismayed, "I mean, I'm not trying to complain, but there isn't too much to work with here, Miss."

With those words, Lera closed her eyes again, almost shaking between the cold and the fear creeping up within her. Her last seven months had been dedicated to helping her people, and now it all seemed to be so fragile. Facing banishment, everything she had worked for- it all suddenly appeared meaningless before her mind's eye. Even for a quarian of only twenty years, she had still accomplished quite a bit, she thought, only for it to result in _this_ predicament.

Even so, Porol perused the paperwork he had already begun to sort out, "I _did_ manage to finagle out some more evidence that I think your Board would have liked me to have. There are some vids, and a few important documents from some of your, _ahem_ , 'employers'."

" _That_ wasn't my fault," Lera confirmed, ashamedly, "I had no idea I was being helped by Terminus raiders; I was under the impression that they were-"

"You come under quite a few impressions," Porol interrupted coldly without stopping his examination of all the evidence.

Once again shot down, Lera returned to herself. She knew the man meant no harm, but it didn't do much of anything to help cheer her up either. Instead, it secluded her even more.

Lera'Cosa had always been a very shy girl; very fitting, she had always figured, for the race of beings she had been born into. Perpetually encased within her suit, she would use its carbon fibers for protection, though not only from dangers. Her suit also protected her from the discomfort she found within the outside world, and her mask had become a shield, masking her from those people so unlike her. It protected her from any sneering remarks directed at her from people whom she couldn't help but stare at; it kept her in this bubble where her mind was free to think, judge, consider all on her own time, free from the restrictive impressions from any quarian or other being.

That side of her had perpetually changed when her next visitor, Vylesia Remigatus, had entered her life as suddenly as she had just entered her interrogation room.

The doorway burst open with exhaust, once again, spewing through the musky flotillan air while a tall figure stepped into silhouetted shape. Without stopping even for consideration, the turian body stepped purposely through the smoke and into Lera's eyesight.

Immediately hopping out of her chair, Lera rushed over toward Vylesia, who readily took the quarian into her arms, staring peevishly at Porol.

"And what exactly did you do to get her all bent out of shape?!" she asked, accusingly, though Porol turned to her with a sincere obliviousness.

He sighed, "I didn't do anything, Ms. Remigatus. I was simply going over the file regarding her case, though…I suppose I _did_ make the situation seem more dire than it is.

Worming a finger along the space between his eyes, almost in irritation, he continued, "From what I can tell in my research, quarian courts seem more subjective than most. There's never a truly 'impossible' defense, unless it's murder or something; I assume it's due to their people being so few in number, they can't exactly risk sending so many to the brig."

His eyes flashed, "or into banishment."

Vylesia gently patted her friend's back, her scaly turian hand a bit more forceful than most, "It's fine, Lera; we'll get you out of this."

Absentmindedly returning to his research, Porol spoke plainly in his high voice, "I mean, that's _still_ a lofty proposition, considering."

Vylesia groaned, holding Lera tighter, "Don't listen to him. _I_ know how important the Fleet is to you, but I promise, I'll _break you_ out of space prison if I have to. Flash packs a massive punch anyway; we'll have you out in no time."

Lera turned her head up to her, "I'm only facing exile though."

To this, Vylesia's neck twitched in shock, "That's all?! You mean you can leave, and we could find a permanent residence among the stars?!"

Her lips contorting in dismay through her smoky-blue mask, Lera confided gently, "This is my _home_. Despite the fun we've had during my pilgrimage- I am _nothing_ without my people. Sometimes the only thing that gets me to sleep is remembering the hum of these very engines… Thinking how I would crawl into one of these very ships just to lull myself to sleep."

Vylesia sighed again, lifting her hand to cover her face, "Yes, yes; I know your engines well. Remember, it was _I_ who fitted Amoux with a brand _spankin'_ old engine off of a derelict quarian ship.

Slowly, Porol cleared his throat, a pithy tone leaving him, "In violation of Citadel code 132-45."

Vylesia pointed a thumb in the salarian's direction, speaking quietly to Lera, "Who is this nut? You really think he'll help at all?"

"My dear, I adequately had a krogan acquitted of an assault charge within Citadel jurisdiction with three salarian jurors. I'm a pretty good lawyer," Porol assured with a heat in his voice, indicating how offended he was of Vylesia's insinuation

Shooting an apathetic stare, Vylesia shot back, "Call me 'dear' again and you may have _another_ charge to defend against."

The turian's head fell backward as she spun around in exhaustion after hearing the exchange, though Lera crossed her arms now that she was standing freely, "I don't care how difficult it may seem; I'm staying a member of this fleet. That's why I sent for Porol in the first place."

"You flatter me," he grumbled, "But honestly, given the system of law, you would probably be fine just explaining yourself."

Vylesia turned to him, grimly, "It's not that simple."

Finally pulling himself away from his papers, Porol turned to the two with an overly-inquisitive expression, even for a salarian. Lera cringed under his stare, but thankfully, Vylesia went on, starting up her omni-tool with a serious stare.

"Although Lera… Although _we_ have accrued some amount of ill-feelings during these last few years, particularly amongst those in the Terminus systems, the account on Farnuri remains the crux of this trial."

Porol nodded, "Yes, and I'm well aware of that system. I believe there belongs a gravity well, now, to Farnuri that is relatively n-…"

The salarian slowly turned his head toward the distant quarian, his eyes peering through heavy eyelids, "You don't mean you…"

"I didn't even _mean_ it!" Lera shouted outside, her speaker crackling through her volume, "I'm telling you! Most of the things that happened have nothing to do with me! I mean-! When you're on pilgrimage, you can't escape the inevitable 'wrong place, wrong time' thing!"

Vylesia shrugged, sadly, "Lera just happens to run into that more than, oh, I'd say… _most_ of the universe."

Porol returned to the folder, flipping back to the front of the rather slim binder, "Well, that _would_ explain these notations pertaining to further files… Twenty-two in all, some of which speak of assault, planetary bombardment? and some odd charge related to hanar thought-crime?"

Lera embarrassingly wrapped her arms over her head, sadly answering his amazed voice, "There's four more that you're missing… I think."

Her turian friend sighed again, walking over to hold her, "Poor Lera just has rotten luck, on occasion. I'm telling you, it's a good thing I adopted her, so to speak; this poor, introverted thing didn't know Omega from Illium until I showed up."

Lera angrily replied, "I wasn't _utterly_ helpless…"

Suddenly, her mind flashed back a few minutes as she quickly pulled away, "Oh! Flash! How's he doing?! He's not missing the trial…is he?"

Grinning, Vylesia replied, "He wouldn't dare. He's slow enough, though; hopefully he'll make it in _time_ , but coming here, and then there, would take a year. Speaking of, Ripley and Jes'ra should also be in attendance."

Now nervous, Lera looked up at her with wide eyes, "Th-That many? Why are so many people here to…to…"

"To support you?" Vylesia finished, "Because you may have accidentally destroyed a planet or two, but you've also built _friendships_ , no matter how much you wish to not acknowledge that. Don't worry; we'll make sure you get a fair trial."

Shaking even more, Lera turned to Porol, "I'm not in danger of that, am I?"

The salarian grimaced, or at the very least, performed the salarian equivalent of such a thing, "As soon as I figure out what exactly that entails with the Admiralty Board, I'll be sure to object. Like I've said, these courts are governed less by concrete laws than by the general need at the time- I hardly have many law codes to even _study_!"

Vylesia shot the man a glace, "She's not going to get jettisoned after you're through, is she?"

Lera gasped in fright.

"No, no," Porol assured, waving his hand from side to side, "My success rate may vary from one field of law to another, but if you bunch up the numbers, the amount of clients who have been harmed, either by death or excommunication, is fairly negligible."

Vylesia's eyes narrowed, "… _fairly_."

"Well, you can see statistics in many different ways," Porol shrugged, "One-in-four meeting an unsavory demise isn't terrible when-"

The turian felt Lera's arms constricting around her midsection as Vylesia charged, "One in four?!"

"It's not a negative-"

"In _what_ cosmos?!" Vylesia growled, her head twisting suddenly to the side as the doorway sputtered awake once again.

From the crashing spires of steam came another quarian, his glowing eyes falling in suspicious as he scanned the room, finding the presence of a turian and salarian to be rather out of his taste.

"Lera'Cosa," he muttered lowly, his eyes remaining on Vylesia, "You've been summoned."

Lera felt her arms shake, even as Vylesia threw a vigorous slap into the back of her shoulder, the turian assuring excitedly, "You're gonna do great, Lera! I believe in you!"

"B- But- My legal counsel-"

Vylesia glanced at Porol with pithy eyes, "I mean, I don't trust _him_ ; but you?! Definitely!"

Lera could feel her heart shrink a size or two, a shallow breath leaving her lung as she followed the quarian before her, with Vylesia and Porol in line behind her.

* * *

In as much dignity as could be given in such an event, Lera'Cosa was allowed to make her way to the Board without the addition of handcuffs. She was escorted by the single commander, as well, with Porol accompanying her, her insides a deep tremor of nerves, even more so now that Vylesia had been sent away to stumble across the proper viewing area. Given such a narrow hallway, Lera had stumbled upon visions of being led to an execution, though, given her connection to this Fleet, being exiled wouldn't exactly be much different.

This hallway, in fact, embodied everything she loved about these ships. The man escorting her also wore a mask, and if casually walking along, she could easily move along without inquiry or greetings from people she wasn't exactly friendly with. The walls wailed occasionally with steam, as well, masking any of her off-putting and flighty utterances as she passed others, the floor vibrated violently at times as pistons and propulsion systems roared to life whenever needed to help conceal her every sensation from others.

She knew full well how close she was to losing all of this, not to mention her family and what few friends she had upon this particular vessel. Under direction from Vylesia, Porol had taken a more gentle attitude toward Lera, though this directive manifested itself as an awkward pat on the quarian's shoulder at, seemingly, the most unexpected moments. Just as she began getting lost in the gentle hums and whirs of the ship, a sudden pat hit her shoulder, breaking her concentration, her eyes shooting away in annoyance.

"I was told you respond well to stimuli atop your shoulder, "Porol noted absently, as though unable to understand why that was.

As they entered the main vestibule of the massive craft, Lera made sure to look around to locate her friends, finally noticing Vylesia hunched over a failing on the second floor, her body lithely making itself known amongst the sparce crowd of quarians that were in attendance. Simply being a turian, Lera thought, would've been enough to make her easily to spot.

Even more outlandishly, Vylesia was spun to the side, speaking to an elcor who Lera had come to know as Flash, his head slowly tracking the somber threesome Lera currently belonged to. She smiled, though, from this distance, he couldn't have noticed it anyway, while Vylesia was too far gone herself, possibly complaining of the situation her quarian friend was in.

Kahaone, or "Flash", as he'd come to be known, ironically, by Lera and Vylesia, was as friendly an elcor as you could find. Another acquaintance picked up along the way during their travels, Flash had actually become a passenger aboard the Everscamper Starship, Amoux, so aptly named to describe the vessel's exact behavior when it actually _did_ manage to work properly. Flash could actually think much faster than he could speak, and his knowledge was invaluable to a two-woman crew who, at the time, couldn't even hope to work, by themselves, on such ships. Lera had a rudimentary knowledge of space tech, but most of what she had picked up at a younger age mostly revolved around raising plant life in horrendous levels of atmospheric pressure, and even beyond that, her quarian lifestyle lent itself to merely surviving upon spacecraft, not piloting them.

Her situation now, however, was a far cry from the quiet girl who left home for the first time on pilgrimage, even if this all was in direct consequence of it. And even as she stood beside her lawyer extraordinaire across from the Admiralty Board, she felt herself curling back into that same childhood, hoping she could disappear- crawl into the nearest air duct only to be accompanied by the gentle hum of the ship's engines.

"Lera'Cosa," began the first in line, Admiral Jalas, "You stand accused of twenty-six different counts, including treason, reckless endangerment, borderline terrorism, destruction of a quarian vessel, endangering the general wellness of our people, _collusion_ to bring a geth aboard the Fleet, disobedience, treacherous use of-"

" _Anyway_ …" interrupted another admiral, Teelo,

Porol's eyes widened as he shot a placid glance toward Lera, who merely spun away, dejectedly.

Teelo continued, "Your crimes are _quite_ vast. At no point in our recorded history has a single quarian wrought such destructive behavior while on pilgrimage. While we _have_ attained a bevy of evidence, and could _easily_ have you exiled permanently, we are nothing without our laws. You are allowed a chance to explain yourself."

Flustered now more than ever, Lera nervously rubbed her fingers against each other. She was too afraid to turn her head to Porol, though the salarian was rather speechless anyway. Above, Vylesia shrugged dramatically at him, her arms outstretched enough to grab the lawyer's attention.

"Eh, uh, yes; my, uh, _client_ has a perfectly reasonable-"

"And you are?" questioned Jalas.

"M-My attorney," Lera replied quietly, her response met with a few murmurs from the Board to one another.

Teelo was the first to speak up, "Young lady, representation is _not_ permitted at meetings of the Board. And an _outsider_ , no less; are you truly attempting to claim the record for 'most reckless and irresponsible member of the Migrant Fleet'?"

Afraid, now, of doing more harm than good, Porol simply stared vacantly back toward the admirals, leaving Lera standing there, more or less, alone. She shut her eyes tightly, summoning her courage, though it was proving an amazingly tall task to accomplish.

" _Lera'Cosa_ ," spoke the eldest of the Board, Admiral Cegar, her deep voice exiting her speaker with a certain understanding, " _All_ that's required of you is an explanation. Just tell us what happened, from your point of view."

Her head rising, Lera eyed the admirals with a blank reverence, her voice barely shaking as she replied, "Uh… How long do I have?"

Jalas and Teelo shared a glance at one another while Cegar answered, "As much time as you need."

Her hands now joined together at her waist, Lera lowered her head in contemplation, thinking of an adequate starting point. Just seven months ago she had begun her pilgrimage; from the very start, things had gone wrong, though she only found it oddly appropriate. It had been her _first_ time by herself; perhaps she _deserved_ some rocky patches to trudge through. But nearly causing an entire planet to collapse in on itself? Surely, that wasn't merely her fate to bear.

Lera carefully took a glance up to the balcony, seeing Vylesia leaning onto the railing, her hand resting between her chin and the metal rail, her fingers extended onto her face in suspense, though her stare was deliberate. Regardless of what her fate had been, or what it would turn out to be, Lera found comfort in her friend. She may not have brought home technology to change the lives of her people, yet she had somehow, unbelievably, brought something along far more valuable, she thought, those nights upon the Amoux with Vylesia and Flash, watching the speeding stars in background as they simply sat there, relating stories to one another.

Lera sighed, summoning the last bit of her courage, though it also summoned a nervous itch up on her scalp which she attempted to rub through her helmet. She then peered off into the distance, now following the hallways within her mind's eye; the last seven months of which having been a jumble of messes and triumphs.

"Okay…" she finally muttered, her voice's mechanical resonance jumping from wall to wall in the deadly silent vestibule.

"I guess, uh- A year ago…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Migrant Fleet** _

_**Petty Ship, Venchin** _

While quarian society hadn't the security or resources to constitute anything of a hierarchy, there were still obvious obstacles that instituted such things. Given that their people lived aboard a large fleet of spacecraft of varying degrees of size or quality, it was understood by the lot of them that different ships offered different amenities and, even more magnified, different problems.

One of the Fleet's smaller craft, with little to its name, was Venchin, a tiny vessel that had been constructed after the quarian exile from Rannoch. As such, it was constructed rather crudely, as time and care were in short supply among the shipyards of the other species amidst the galaxy, and wasn't nearly as large as others, leaving room amidst its hollow quarters for only a few clusters of quarian clans. In fact, the only real amenity it offered was a rather advanced hydroponic farm, which, being the only thing aboard worth being proud of, those aboard took great care to master its finer points.

Without a home planet, these families and clans strove to find the only source of pride they could find, which largely became the very ships they resided upon. They took their names, and the ships themselves, especially the smaller ones where the clans aboard were more tightly-knit, became something of family members. With only false gravity and artificial atmospheres separated by some measure of metal separating these beings from the coldness of space, those ships became as essential as oxygen might be for humanity, after all.

Venchin, while crudely and quickly built, was still relatively new, and broke down at a much less frequent rate than other vessels. With fewer repairs, and a hydroponics facility that lent them a rather vast assortment of greenery, those aboard this petty ship appeared rather odd to the other quarians, almost like a entirely separate region of the same nation. Many were _obsessed_ with that greenery, which most quarians hadn't delved into for many centuries, and some aboard the Venchin probably couldn't tell an FTL drive from a whisk. Still, they were treated normally by the others, even if there were some social ladders upon which its inhabitants found themselves low upon.

This is where Lera'Cosa had grown up. Her mother had perished soon after giving birth, and being raised by her father, as proud of a military man as one could be without the military accouchements offered by a planet, she didn't see him much. She was mostly raised communally by the Venchin crew while her father led raids on geth freighters or systems, eventually earning him a great deal of respect among the Admiralty, and was nearing a spot upon the Board himself.

Lera was a naturally quiet child, and took to her body suit rather readily. Even as infants, being immediately shoved into a suit could prove a rather traumatizing experience for many quarians, but Lera seemed nearly relieved to be thrust into one, and even as she grew, as much as the Venchin was her home, the suit seemed to be as much of a shelter as the metal surrounding her and her clan.

That suit, endlessly pressed against her skin, offering her atmosphere, breaths; it never left her, even during her yearly refittings, which were often done piece by piece. It became a silent friend to her; never leaving her side. One that never spoke, but always listened- Never judging her, and not bothering to question her actions or thoughts; it merely did what it was supposed to in service of keeping her alive.

These had become the usual musings of quarians as a whole, with even scholars waxing poetic about their suits in some fetishized reverence, but Lera, in all her quietude, seemed far more welcoming of the artificial skin surrounding her own than many other quarians who found it a hindrance. even if it were merely due to her discomfort at being exposed in any way.

In this way, her suit had been more of a life-long refuge than anything else.

Still, as introverted as she was, Lera was still a curious child, and she seemed eager to understand the hydroponics farm that was as much of her being as the pretty ship Venchin was. Her elders upon the ship were also eager to acquire the services of one small enough to crawl underneath the farm, seeing as how they had all outgrown the task of clearing out the irrigation ducts that would run the plants' water into the rejuvenation basin where it was, essentially, cleared of impurities to be reused. Lera had frown the task to be a chore at first, but soon enough realized the adoration received by her closest clans upon the Venchin, and even the wild curiosity of quarians from other ships whenever they visited.

As a result of her work, the crew respected her immensely, and whenever she became reclusive, they didn't bother her beyond essential conversation, particularly as she began to grow up. She enjoyed reading whatever material she could get her hands on, and took to flights of fancy whenever she could. Even staring out of the portholes at the other ships, she knew that there was nothing much different from this tiny vessel, yet she couldn't help but imagine less grey hallways on the other side of the space between them. Even the plants grown aboard the Venchin were more a sickly green, and couldn't be described as much more than drab.

Like many quarians, the maturation process proved to be an incredibly stressful time, but more so for Lera, due to her seclusion. With her father gone oftentimes, and nobody else on the Venchin particularly feeling an obligation otherwise, as long as she was doing her work, Lera fell into her teens with the crushing weight of mixed emotions and thoughts. The suit she had once felt so protected in from others, she could now feel restricting her every pulsation of nerves, nagging at her, reminding her of how restricted she was from reality itself. From birth, quarians were always held within sterile chambers or their suits to protect their fragile immune systems, and while some of the larger ships held those sterile rooms for quarians to shed their armor, Lera couldn't remember a time where her suit didn't shackle her.

Without her father, she hadn't the clearance to pass from one ship to another, much less to enter a sterility chamber, and she spent long nights contemplating simply shedding her suit and finally seeing life with her own eyes, unhindered by a visor. Hearing her own voice, untarnished by a mechanical speaker or by the reverberations along bone from lips to ear.

She hadn't ever heard her own voice before. She couldn't even be sure of the shade of color that covered her skin.

With ravenous eyes, she read more and more from writers among the other species that she knew of; turian, drell, human, asari- All these individuals that retained the freedom to freely breath beyond a respirator, who could touch, and be touched; people who could see with their own eyes, uninterrupted by the smoky glass that had long been just as much of Lera's vision as her own eyes.

Hindered, so dramatically, only further frustrated her once she began going through puberty, when her suit adjustments became more regular and her body began changing without her so much as being able to see what was happening. She spent hours thinking about who exactly she was… _What_ she even was. All she was, she knew, was little more than a mere suit; a wretched amalgamation of skin and synthetic fabric wherein she hadn't an idea where _she_ ended and that suit began. Despite such festering misgivings, she knew that, for all her complaining within her mind, she couldn't ever surrender that suit. It was her home, after all, much like a hermit crab carries its shell; even the hermit crab, she pleadingly realized, had more freedom than she.

Sitting in her tiny room, the quarters not much longer than a few feet across in either direction, Lera lay atop her small bed which took up most of the floorspace, leaving her with only a handful of slits in the walls for use as shelving to keep her most prized possessions. Much like everything else about the quarians, utilities and most objects were communal, leaving very little ownership to each individual, though Lera made certain to keep to herself the miniscule collection of storybooks she had stumbled across whenever traders visited the Migrant Fleet, or on those off-chances the Fleet would stop off on some station for equipment or supplies.

Snuggled up with a blankets yanked up to her neck, legs pressed against her torso as she curled up in the corning, she lazily scrolled her eyes along the tepid pages, eventually sending a lethargic finger sliding along the sheet of paper before gently pressing it onto its opposite end, continuing on silently, lulled as she was by the gentle humming of the ship's engines that that ran with full vibration beneath her before finding it's way to her spine, where a twitching tingle would eventually escape in a jolt up to her brain.

Lera's eyes poked through her mask like tiny bulbs of light breaking through haze, only just appearing to move as they scrolled along the book's pages. Every few moments, her respirator would speak up in tinny feedback as her ability to breathe through her suit was reinvigorated, her resting position ensuring that the routine was more sparse, allowing that silence she so craved.

She slid her back down the cold anterior wall of her room, feeling the coldness of space against the newly warmed sliver of skin now exposed to its lazy reach through Venchin's exterior. Further relaxed, she made her way further through the book; something about a vorcha on some fictional planet who had escaped his debtors to become the supreme crime boss of an entire system. It was a bit too out there for her, but with so few books to come across at all, she hadn't ever been one to –

An itch.

Lera frowned, twisting her arm as she attempted to sate that stinging itch that had arisen just beyond her elbow. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as frustration settled in, knowing that such irritating sensations were futile to relieve. Still, she slid the book from her hand and into her lap before reaching over, scratching atop her suit, pressing her fingertips hard against the somewhat-elastic material in some hope of finding relief.

Her arm was devoid of touch. As she dug against suit that now shielded her from that alleviation; a bitter irony, now that she thought of it. Even her fingertips, working into her suit, fell sensationless, dulled by the material that suffocated her skin. Lera's teeth bared invisibly beneath her mask as she furiously dug against her suit, the more irritation that crept along her inner arm, the more frustrated she became until-

*SLAM*

She fell back against the wall, huffing silently as she caught a quick shallow breath back, her book having been tossed angrily into the wall across from her, now lying there on the floor, motionless. Despite her near-empty breaths, having only barely exerted herself, the ventilator whirred awake as if she'd been left without breath at all, even her respirator making her every breath a noisy refutation of her solutional mood.

Her hand reached up to clutch the top of her helmet as she dropped her face into her knees in defeat, now resting here with nothing to comfort her- nothing to keep her thoughts from herself. She shut her eyes, trying to focus the itch away, lulling away that sensation much as the Venchin had done to ease her own unease. She thought of those very few glimpses in her life where she had actually seen her skin; even then, she knew, it wasn't 'real'. Her smoky visor ensured that even her eyes were unable to ascertain, fully, the world around her.

Her skin… What must it feel like, she wondered, lazily running her gloved hand across the suit at her arm. What was its texture? was it springy like a humans? or coarse and scaly like a turian?

Was it pretty? Did it have a hint of rosy glow to its mauve pallor? or was that merely a trick of the light? Did her face make prevent her from knowing, truly?

Was she…ugly?

Did her skin had endless rashes? Splotches of fetid blisters- Even that she couldn't possibly know.

Her eyes shut tighter, contorting her face as she desperately battled her thoughts. Her frustration seemed insurmountable as she sat there in the silence, hearing nothing more than her respirator, the dull rumbling of the ship,

Her quiet tears.

She slid to the side, nestling herself against the corner of her room, her eyes remaining shut amidst a gentle seam of tears that glistened wherever the light of her eyes managed to barely break through her attempt at closing herself off from this reality. A reality cursed to live as a stranger to her own body.

Eventually, she managed that sweet escape from this reality of hers, the subtle roaring of engines nearly rocking her back and forth as she sat there, huddled within her blanket in the corner atop her mattress.

For now, at least, sleep had caught up with her.

* * *

Lera quietly sat at the desk of her immediate superior, the officer of the Venchin, Officer Yan'Naasa, a man who had always admired Lera's work ethic, despite her introverted nature. She was always quiet, but she did her work, and she did it well, leaving him quite dismayed that this day had come so soon.

"Lera'Cosa vas Venchin," he muttered as he wrote on the final portions of paperwork, ensuring to properly record the initial notes regarding her Pilgrimage, "Are you excited to be off on your own?"

Lera nodded, "Yes sir."

The elder chuckled, "You're an adult now, so you don't need to be so formal. You know, it's going to be really different here without you. I'll have to keep a closer eye on the farm, for one."

Smirking as he leaned over his desk, he went on along with a shake of his head, "You know, I never had to worry about the hydroponics with you here."

As his hand scribbled around atop the paper, Lera watched him write, her voice breaking through her suit, "It's not as if you'll be having more peace and quiet or anything."

Yan'Naasa chuckled, shaking his head once again, "Not _that_ kind of different, child."

He peeked up toward her, "I don't know how much you ever realized, but you were always sort of our mascot. You remain the only quarian aboard the Venchin who was brought up from infancy here. I know we all took great pride in having a child grow up here to be so learned; even if you weren't exactly sociable, you made your mark in your own way. We've been proud to have you aboard."

He nodded to himself as he flipped his paper over, a hollowed voice echoing through his speaker, "You'll do well."

Lera looked over toward the circular window that allowed her a peek into the cosmos. It was so vast, she thought. She was just about to be sent out there, _somewhere_. The nerves welled up within her, but she couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of leaving this place which had constricted her so much as of late. Perhaps a change of scenery truly was needed for her to better understand just how better life aboard the Venchin was, though- She ominously thought that to be a silly prospect.

"Alright then," Yan'Naasa spoke up as he finished, "I suppose if you're ready, we can go ahead and ship you off. We have a shuttle heading off to a salarian merchant craft, so you can hitch a ride with them. I think they're actually heading to the Citadel, so you'll be able to get the full galactic treatment."

Smiling softly, his voice tinged with regret, Yan spoke up quietly, "I was once a young man going off to Pilgrimage, myself, so- I understand how it feels. like the entire cosmos is full of those with so much, and yet-"

He lightly fumbled with his pen between fingers, raising his head to face the young Lera'Cosa, "Whatever you do with your life from now on- It's what you make of it. But, just know-"

Nodding, Yan'Neesa confided with a comforting voice, even amidst the electrical crackle of his mask, "These suits confine us. but they also bind us. No matter what- Your suit will always mean you have a home here."

He slowly stood up, taking a deep breath before walking around toward her, patting her back as the two began toward the door, "I know it can be scary. _My_ pilgrimage- I believe I ended up bringing back a geth codex that described early life on Rannoch. It was a very generous piece of historical significance, even if somewhat marred by the perspective of those synthetic beings. Just think of that excitement of bringing back something amazing; even if it isn't, every quarian returning from pilgrimage is a great sight for many of us."

The two stopped just at the door, with Lera curiously looking up toward her officer, "I'll do my best. I've read many books and articles; I've studied up on how to conduct myself around the galaxy; I even managed to learn some quick tips to repair spacecraft, since I know we don't usually have the opportunity."

Yan'Neesa raised a finger as though to point out some wise saying, as he often did, "Adversity _does_ beget growth. It's almost a shame that we have so few opportunities here to face adversity- mostly thanks to you. but I'm happy you took the initiative."

The man nodded to himself again, reaching out toward the panel that opened the door, "I did prepare a certain surprise, by the way, to see you off on your pilgrimage; I hope you don't mind."

She turned, curiously, to the door, jumping in surprise as it opened, revealing her father there, arms outstretched, as she ran to him for a hug. Nearly slamming her entire body into him, Lera felt his tight embrace as he threw his arms around her, not having seen her for a good few months now.

"Father!" she shouted in a happy shock.

He only laughed solemnly, "You didn't think I'd let you run off without saying goodbye, did you?"

Her father looked up toward their officer as he held his daughter, "Thank you, sir. She's _my_ daughter; she'll make you proud out there."

"Pfft," Yan scoffed, "Oh please, sir. Lera'Cosa has _already_ made us proud. As if my reports weren't satisfactory for you, Res'Tael."

Lera's father shook his head as she pulled away, examining her top to bottom as he replied to the officer, "You hardly ever had anything to report, good sir. Now, my dear Lera- You've gone over your suit, right? No breaches?"

" _No_ ," she answered like a child encountering an easy question.

Res'Tael nodded, "Good, good. and what do you do if a breach _does_ occur out there?"

"Pray."

Her father snickered, "and?"

Lera nodded with a knowing air, "Find a doctor or a turian."

"That's my girl," Res'Tael muttered with a smile, pulling her into another hug, "You know what you're looking for?"

The question hadn't ever been posed to her, Lera suddenly thought, leaving her silent as her father chuckled, his broad chest sharing its vibration as he joked, "It's a trick question, dear. Nobody knows until they've discovered it."

"She'll do well," Yan'Neesa assured.

Spinning her head from one side to the other across her father's chest, Lera came upon her officer with a smile, the small orbs of light escaping from her visor curling themselves to denote her upturned cheeks.

"For one so quiet, she's always been so bright," Yan'Neesa noted with a grin himself, lifting his hand to examine his omni-tool, "Ah. I hate to cut this short, but your shuttle is leaving soon."

Res'Tael nodded as Lera slipped away from him, turning toward the door as he spoke, "Yes, it is indeed."

Sliding a hand in a caring gesture atop his daughter's head, he inquired, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I think so," Lera confirmed, albeit with a nervousness to her tone, "I mean-"

Her father stopped, turning his expectant eyes upon her as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, "Lera- You don't have to-"

"No," she spoke, "I'm ready."

She had only feigned the confidence now within her voice.

"Told you," Officer Yan'Neesa nodded proudly, raising his arm toward the door in instruction as he continued, "Lera'Cosa vas Venchin. It was an honor having you aboard. I hope when you return, you'll be among the best of us quarians. I look forward to your discoveries."

Her father extended the sentiment, his warm voice nearly rendering his speaker disposable, "As do I, my dear Lera."

She smiled.

"Just don't go blowing up anything, alright?" Yan'Neesa joked with a wry twist of his head.

Certainly that wouldn't be in the cards, Lera thought.


End file.
